


handholding

by knightnoches



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CHARACTER DEATH SPOILERS fe:three houses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, I just needed this, MAJOR SPOILERS for fe:three houses, Multi, Second person POV, Self-Indulgent, Unbeta'd, any gender byleth/reader, haven't finished the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightnoches/pseuds/knightnoches
Summary: It's time to sort things.





	handholding

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS/CHARACTER DEATH for fe:three houses!  
I haven't finished the game yet, I just really needed to write this

You carried your father on your back all the way to the monastery.

It only seemed right.

This would be the only time you were forced to carry his weight—understand how heavy your failure was.

Your father’s body was on your back. You sobbed through gritted teeth, speaking to no one on the trek back.

No one would touch him. No one would come near Jeralt. That was your father. That was your only family—he was your blood, and yours alone.

Something animal in you was stirring and, in your grief, you didn’t care to calm it.

You arrived at the monastery covered in dried mud and blood; bruises and open cuts decorating your whole body.

Sothis said that it was fate.

Damn fate.

Damn this all, you thought. Damn the goddess, damn Seiros and her knights, damn this whole monastery to hell.

Even as your fury seared within you, your grief was too heavy for you to express.

Days spent weeping went by in a blur. Dust collected in the captain’s quarters.

No one entered. And no one would. At least, not until after you did.

Leonie’s grief infuriated you.

Your spite made you sick. Jeralt touched many lives and hearts—it was only natural many should mourn him.

And yet, looking upon her face filled you with indignance.

How dare she? How dare she cry as if he was dear to her?

Did she have any idea how little he meant to her in comparison to you?

How small was the hole in her heart compared to yours?

She had no right to be sad, the bitter part of you screamed. She had not lost a father. She had not loved him as you had. No one did. Jeralt did not raise her.

Only one person carried his body back.

That person was you.

None of your rage could manifest past your insides.

Most days you laid, limbs heavy and cold.

There was a funeral- a fast one- that you sat through with unfeeling eyes.

There were knocks at your door that you didn’t answer.

Even your eyes were too heavy.

Sothis told you to weep if you needed to. And you did.

* * *

After days and days, you were urged up.

“Your father left something for you, did he not?” Sothis asked.

With a heavy head, you looked at her. Your eyes moving back and forth felt like bowling balls sliding and rolling in your skull.

The walk to his quarters was difficult.

The dusk air was crisp and cool; you could hear commotion coming from the dining hall.

Footsteps approached from the direction of the cathedral.

You looked up from the stone pathway.

Seteth stood there, blue hues of the evening lounging on his skin.

“Professor.” He greeted, tone not deviating from his norm. His eyes were gentler than usual, though.

Or maybe you were imagining it.

The eye contact you made was too much for your weak body to hold.

“I have to sort his things.” You offered.

“…Allow me to accompany you.” Seteth said with a nod.

You hadn’t the energy to protest.

* * *

The walk over was silent aside from your footsteps. Seteth hardly looked at you. He maintained his perfect posture and purposeful gait.

By the time you made it to the top of the stairs, you were already crying silently.

You stood at the entrance to the captain’s quarters.

Your father’s room.

Without your father.

Seteth stood beside you.

You didn’t know what you were thinking.

As if by some instinct, you moved you hand out towards Seteth’s hip.

“…Please.” You choked out.

Seteth took your hand and stepped into Jeralt’s quarters with you.

He held your hand while you clutched your father’s journal to your chest and sobbed.

You held Jeralt’s ring with shaking fingers and curled over, arm held out and finger clasping Seteth’s palm.

You let go of Seteth’s hand.

On your knees you tried to put the ring on your right hand, but your hands were shaking too badly, and you sight was too impaired by the tears bubbling over your eyes.

“Here.” Seteth kneeled on the carpet. He held out his hands, and you let him take the ring.

You held yourself with your left arm, shaking.

Gingerly, he slid the ring on your finger.

You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder.

He held your hand.


End file.
